


Legacy

by Nynaeve



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Shipsgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nynaeve/pseuds/Nynaeve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1969 Lt. Hammond met SG-1 and his life was never the same. Sam and Jack reflect on his life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> _A/N: Written for Shipsgiving 2009. This came to me as I was wondering what to write and since Thanksgiving is about giving thanks and also a time to reflect on where we come from, I thought what better way than for Jack and Sam to reflect on Hammond. Thank you TrueRomantic for beta-ing this for me! I usually try to give myself more time but I really wanted it for Shipsgiving. Without further ado… dedicated to Don Davis._

The tears were coming a lot faster now that she was alone in the hotel room. The funeral for George Hammond had been beautiful and there had been quite the crowd with so many wanting to pay their respects. Sam blinked and sniffed trying to somewhat contain the torrent, but she soon realized it was useless and let them fall freely. She'd come to think of him as a second father and it had been such a great comfort to still have him in her life after her own father died.

A knock on the door caused her to look up and she opened it to see Jack standing there holding a box. "Jack!"

"I tried to find you at the funeral since the damn Joint Chiefs kept me until the _last minute_ ," he complained as he walked in. That was all he said about it though as he set the box down and engulfed her in his arms. The familiar scent of her husband lulled her back down to just a few tears and he pulled back to meet her blue eyes. "Sorry I couldn't find you. George was a popular guy."

"He was and it's okay. You're here now. I'm just glad we could both get an uninterrupted weekend," she commented as she took a deep breath. "What's this?" She motioned towards the box that looked to be the size of a shoebox.

"Ginny gave that to me, said it was some stuff that Hammond specifically wanted you to have."

Furrowing her brow, she picked up the parcel and opened it and sure enough it was a shoe box that looked rather worn. Taking off the lid she peered inside. "Oh!"

"What?"

Sam took the box and sat down on the bed and Jack took a seat next to her. "This stuff, I recognize a lot of it." Pulling out a yellowed business card she let out a small laugh. "This is my mom's business card! She was a part-time seamstress to bring in extra money." Flipping it over she saw the date written _July 24_ in her father's scrawl and then what looked to be added later _1978._

"I wonder why he wrote the year on there?" Jack said aloud, but it suddenly made sense to Sam.

"1969 sir!"

Jack rolled his eyes at her unconscious use of the honorific. "What about it?"

"General Hammond and my father knew each other before I came to work at the SGC. I mean I didn't know him all that well, he was closer to my father, but what if because of 1969 he sought my dad out?"

"So… you're responsible for them being friends?"

"Yeah, which is weird when you think about it," Sam replied. "This card… I don't have any really strong memories around it. I remember when we lived in Biloxi he and his wife used to come over every now and again and vice versa. I wonder how he got this card?"

"That's a good question, Carter, but I want to know what else is in there."

Sam smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "You are incorrigible."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The sweltering heat had pushed him to duck into the first bar on the street. It wasn't so much the heat as it was the humidity that was killing him. Texas had its share of both, but here on the coast, Biloxi, Mississippi seemed to be drenched and it made breathing almost impossible. George wasn't looking for any particular bar anyway, he just needed to mourn quietly for an evening. Mary, God bless her soul, understood despite it falling on the night they normally took for the just the two of them.

It was significantly cooler inside and he wiped his brow as he worked his way to the mostly empty bar. George chuckled to himself. _Bob, if you could see me now, I look like a damn alcoholic coming in this early_. Tradition was tradition in his mind and with everyone having pushed Vietnam to the back of their minds as an embarrassment, he felt like he was doing something to keep the man's memory alive.

"Whiskey," he drawled to the bartender, a man in his early twenties. With a nod the man poured and set it in front of him. George sat and stared at it for a moment, saying a silent prayer for a lost comrade.

"Works better if you drink it," a gruff voice interrupted. He looked up startled at a man with brown eyes and a rather crooked nose in a pale yellow polo shirt. "Sorry, not usually one to tell a man how to drink, but I don't run into a lot of people at this particular hour." He took the seat next to George. "Scotch." The bartender served him up.

"I like to beat the crowds," he commented. "George Hammond."

"Jacob Carter," the newcomer introduced.

"Well George, let's drink to new friends." Jacob lifted his glass but George shook his head.

"Can't drink to new friends yet. The first drink is always for friends lost," he explained, a somber aura emanating from him. Jacob said nothing but used the silence to encourage him to talk. "I lost my best friend in Vietnam. I watched his plane get shot down and I tried…" his voice caught. "I saw his chute open! I radioed his position but we never found him. Bob had been married four months… four whole months and had only had his honeymoon with his wife…" There was the telltale sting in his eyes and he knew it would come before the evening was over. This was the only time he let himself go, knowing it did him no good to dwell.

Jacob cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Too many good men died fighting over there." George nodded and took in a deep breath, but remained quiet. "Then let's drink to fallen heroes, lost but not forgotten." At this the Texan raised his glass with his new friend and they drank quickly, their glasses hitting the bar at the same time.

"Another round!" Jacob called to the bartender. Their glasses were filled and they drank again. People started trickling into the bar as the sun set, but the two were becoming fast friends and barely noticed the noise level increasing. Most of their discussion was centered on their careers; George was a fighter pilot who flew F-4s while Jacob flew the C-130 Herks. "You're not like the other fighter pilots I run into," Jacob had commented somewhere around the fourth round.

The place was packed after their sixth round a couple hours later and the two decided to head out into the night. They walked down the street a ways and found a bench to sit on. George's head felt fuzzy enough that he found himself talking more than he usually did. "Bob and I… before we were deployed, when we were in school together, we used to go out and find a bar and drink til the sun came up. Tried to see who could win the prettier girl in the place. Once I got married we stopped going out so much and never all night and he always won the pretty girl contest…"

"Any kids?"

"One! Virginia Mae. All girl too and looks just like her mother, praise the Lord," he said with a chuckle. Jacob laughed with him.

"I've got a girl of my own and I _wish_ she were all girl. She took apart our telephone last week and the damn thing's been staticky ever since."

"How old?"

"She'll be ten in December." Jacob paused and breathed in the thick evening air. "Hey my house isn't too far from here, why don't you come on over with me? Liz won't mind another mouth for dinner. That is, if your wife doesn't mind."

"Mary's not expecting me back til late tonight. She's probably got something planned so I'd be happy to join you if you're sure it's not a problem."

Jacob waved off. "Not at all! Wife's been begging to meet people since we moved here."

The two walked further down the road and took a few turns before ending up in front of a modest looking cottage. The lawn was neatly manicured and there were flowers out front that had clearly been grown with tender, loving care. The house itself looked like it could use a fresh coat of paint, but it wasn't shabby by any means. The screen door creaked as Jacob opened it and George was once again greeted by cool air.

"Liz! I brought a friend home!"

"Daddy! Daddy!" A little boy with unruly brown hair who looked to be no more than five came scampering through the hallway. He leapt into his dad's arms and placed an affectionate kiss on his cheek before his feet touched the ground again. They walked into the living room where a woman in her late twenties poked her head out of the kitchen. Her eyes were a sparkling blue and she had blonde hair past her shoulders. George studied her trying to figure out why she looked so familiar.

"Hi! I'm Liz, I'd come out but dinner's almost ready, so make yourselves at home!" Jacob motioned to the couch and the two took a seat. Those eyes… he'd seen those eyes before… He was about to say something when a shriek filled the house and a stick thin girl came out with a glare on her face.

"Dad! Mark keeps trying to get into my chemistry set," she complained. "I told him no and I tried to drag him out but he's not listening." She put her hands on her hips. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had the same blue eyes as her mother. Jacob hollered Mark's name and the boy popped out from the hallway. He was ordered to leave his sister alone and dejectedly he plopped down on the floor to play with his wooden train set.

"George, meet the daughter I was telling you about. This is Sammie."

The girl grimaced. "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad, my name is not Sammie! Samantha. Samantha Carter reporting for duty!" She gave George a rather proper salute but the man's heart had started racing.

"Did you say Samantha Carter?" he asked hoarsely. Sam gave him a bemused look.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just… I met someone named Samantha Carter once," he quickly covered. The house suddenly felt stifling. "You know, I just remembered I left some paperwork up at the base. I'd better go get it. I'm so sorry about this."

Jacob looked surprised but shrugged. "No problem, but let's set a date for something more formal that you and your family can do." He looked around for a piece of paper and spotted his wife's business cards. Grabbing one he wrote a date on the back with his phone number. "We're having a barbecue and we're inviting the neighbors."

George promised he would check with Mary and as quickly as he could he headed out into the night. He thumbed his finger over the slightly raised lettering as he walked down the street. The universe was a strange place.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The business card dropped to the bottom of the box as Sam rummaged through the various items. There were lots of pictures which Jack had fun looking at. Especially the one with Sam with really large bangs. "You really embraced the eighties didn't you?"

"This from the man who owned a leisure suit," she jabbed back. "What were we thinking?"

"If it was good enough for John Travolta…"

"You should just be glad that the military regs kept you from sporting a mullet."

Jack was about to retort that he would have looked great in a mullet when Sam pulled out a napkin that looked like it had been crumpled at one point. It had the logo of what looked to be a fish place on the front. Underneath, in General Hammond's writing was the date 10-26-1983. A small gasp escaped her lips. "This was from the reception after my mom's funeral," she said, her voice soft. Jack squeezed her leg with his hand.

"He found me crying in my dad's study. Jack, if it weren't for him I don't know that I would have ever forgiven my father."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There was classical music playing in the background and George eyed the spread in front of him. He wasn't really interested in the food but his conversations with Jake had gone nowhere. They caught up with each other when they were TDY at each other's bases and exchanged the occasional letter so when he had received the call that Liz had been in a car accident he'd left as soon as he could. Mary had wanted to come, but she couldn't leave Virginia and Peter alone.

He picked up a cracker and turned around. Jacob was sitting sullenly on a chair as mourners periodically offered their condolences. Always the military man, the pain only showed in the dark circles under his eyes. Mark was sitting off in the corner watching his father, tears streaming down his face. George scanned the crowd for the one that fate had placed in his path, but Sam was nowhere to be found. He slipped down the hall towards the restroom but the sound of sobbing brought his attention to a door just a little further down.

"Samantha?" he said as he pushed the door open. The blond teenager turned her face away.

"Go away."

Walking in, he left the door partially ajar and sat on a stool next to the leather office chair Sam was seated in. "I noticed you weren't out there, so I thought I'd check on you."

"I'm fine!" she exclaimed. "Just… just leave me alone, please."

George stood up with a sigh. "If that's what you really want…" He was halfway to the door when her small voice spoke again.

"Wait." He paused and turned. "Sorry, I… I… uh… maybe you can tell me who's out there…" It surprised him how unsure her eyes were. Although he had only met the grown-up Samantha Carter briefly she had come across as a sure, vibrant, brilliant young woman. He sat back down.

"I don't know everyone's name so I'll have to do it by description. There was a woman with red hair talking to your father…"

She sniffled. "Was she wearing heavy make up?"

"I remember purple eye shadow so thick I couldn't figure out what color her eyes were," he quipped. She let out a snort of laughter. "There was a boy sporting a green mohawk…"

"That was Aunt Millie and her son Rocco. With a name like Rocco it's no wonder he'd have a mohawk." Her tears were slower now and she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

"What, you've never thought of having a mohawk?" He feigned astonishment. "You seemed like such a rebel."

Sam shook her head. "No way. I want… want _ed_ to be an astronaut." She dropped her gaze to the floor and fingered the napkin in her hand. "But now I don't know."

"You have a lot of time. There's no reason to decide today what you're going to do," he placated, feeling as though his encouragement was nothing more than a Hallmark card.

"Mom didn't want me to join the military. She said she always worried about Dad and she didn't want to worry about me. Now I know the real reason she didn't want me to join," she said with an air of bitterness. "If he'd been around… he's always making promises and breaking them. This time it killed Mom."

There was nothing said between them for a few minutes as tears fell afresh. Never before had he felt so inadequate and he searched himself for words to give her.

"I can't speak to what your father has or hasn't done, but… I'm not good at this, but maybe not today, maybe not for a few months, but one day, Sam, I want you to remember this moment. You lost your mother but Jake lost his best friend. What we do as officers is hard and keeps us away when we'd rather be at home. I missed both of my children's births. I've missed Christmases and birthdays because of deployments. Maybe they understand, maybe they don't, but Mary knows and she knew what she was signing up for when she married me."

Her sorrowful eyes looked at him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that your mother wouldn't want you to let this destroy your relationship with your father."

"I-I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know that I'm ready to forgive him."

"All I'm asking is that you keep it in mind."

"Okay."

George stood up to leave again but paused. "And Sam?" She looked up. "Something tells me you're going to make one hell of an astronaut."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Another tear dripped down Sam's cheek and Jack wiped it away with his thumb. "I thought he was just being encouraging but as the years went by he mentioned me being an astronaut in every single birthday card and once or twice even in the Christmas card!"

"George Hammond, protector of history," he quipped and Sam laughed. Tenderly he stroked a stray piece of hair back behind her ear and leaned in to meet her lips. She let out a groan as she opened her mouth to his and let his tongue gain entrance. It had been at least three weeks since they'd been able to coordinate their schedules to be together. The box went crashing to the floor suddenly, breaking the moment.

"Damn!" she exclaimed bending forward to retrieve the spilled items. As she started putting the pictures back in, her eye caught a folded piece of paper.

"I'll be right back, I gotta pee," he told her and she unfolded the sheet as he went into the small bathroom. Her breath caught in her throat. "Jack!"

"Just a second!" he called and in another second she heard the flush and the water run. Coming out he met her eyes and gave her a confused expression. "What?"

She handed him the piece of paper and Jack only had to glance at it to know what it was. "Oh." He sat back down on the bed. "I didn't give it to him. I don't know how he got that."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Jack shrugged. "I didn't think it mattered." He was surprised when she threw her arms around him. "My bad?"

"You are so slow sometimes," she teased and buried her face in his neck.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The SGC was somber as George walked through the corridors. Watching Samantha Carter hold the broken body of the Tok'Ra Martouf had almost been more than he could bear. When Jack and Sam had been marked as za'tarcs he'd almost lost it then. Jack was a fine officer and Sam was… he stopped and let out a sigh. Sam felt almost like family. He'd followed her career, careful not to overstep any boundaries, but keeping a watchful eye. George turned the corner and contemplated where to go next. He knew she had left almost as soon as everything was over but, unlike the last time he'd comforted her, he had no special insight into her future.

Walking by Jack's office he froze. The light was on and the door was cracked. That alone was cause for investigation because he was pretty damn sure Jack never used his office. Knocking on the door he pushed it open to see a much burdened Colonel with his head in his hands.

"Colonel? Shouldn't you be headed home for some rest?"

"Soon sir." He didn't look up.

George sat down in the chair across from him. "Is everything okay, Jack?"

The man looked up and ran his hand through his hair. "It's been a hell of a day, week, month…" He sighed heavily and pushed his keyboard aside.

The older man wasn't as ignorant as he was pretending to be. Janet Frasier had already put the report on his desk and he'd read a transcript of the retesting of both of them. George knew the weight that was sitting on Jack O'Neill's chest and he had to confess to himself that part of this conversation was to help him assess what needed to happen with SG-1. He had no evidence that the two were engaged in any sort of unprofessional relationship and he was loathe to put accusation anywhere near either one of them, especially Sam Carter.

"Why don't you go up to your cabin? Go fishing for a few days?" he suggested.

Jack said nothing but kept his gaze fixed on his desk. His eyes darted up. "Is Carter going to be okay?"

"Eventually. She's strong."

"Stubborn too."

George chuckled. "She's more like her father than I think she'll ever truly want to admit." He leaned forward. "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do about everything, but why don't you take some time to think about it. Don't do anything rash."

Jack's eyes darkened but he nodded curtly. "Yes sir." He stood up. "I think I'm going to take your advice sir and go to Minnesota. Thank you for this talk." George made no motion to move.

"Any time," he responded and Jack walked out the door. With a grunt George stood up but something in the wastebasket caught his attention. Unable to resist he pulled the sheet out and read it. Inhaling deeply, he pursed his lips. It appeared that Jack had realized that no matter how much he wanted to, the Air Force would never let him leave. Sadly, George folded the resignation letter in half and turned off the light.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I can't believe he never said anything," Jack said with disbelief. "I mean the look on his face when I handed him my resign—" He stopped himself abruptly but it was too late.

"You said you never gave it to him," she said suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. "I might have kissed you once… or twice… or ten times during that time we were stuck in the time loop."

Sam's mouth stood agape. "You _what_?"

"Oh don't act like you wouldn't have done it."

"I would not…" she started but he raised an eyebrow at her and she wrinkled her nose. "Okay nevermind, you're right, but _that_ I can't believe you didn't tell me," she chided. "At least that makes all your goofy grins around that time make sense. You really had me befuddled."

"I just can't believe he kept that, especially since all the items in here are about you and your family," Jack said taking the box from her.

"Well, SG-1 was my family. Maybe… maybe he kept it in case something happened to you…"

"In case I never told you that I loved you?"

She nodded mutely and a heaviness descended on them. "It took us forever," she whispered.

"But we're together now," he said as he leaned in for a kiss, but his toe hit something on the floor. "What the…?"

Sam leaned down and picked up a small plastic box. "I must have missed it when I was picking everything up." Opening it, her eyes widened as she saw a set of stars with a folded up note.

 _Sam, I know you have your father's stars safely tucked away. Well, you'll have more than one dress uniform I imagine, but it'd be my pleasure to see these on your shoulders. No one deserves these as much as you. Love, George._

Her eyes that had been dry now started to rain down tears as she held the small box in her hand. Jack's arms once again found their way around her and she buried her face into his chest. Both of them felt a little lost inside as they realized with a deep profoundness that the mantle had been passed to them.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

 _Jacob sat on a stool at the bar. The place had an ethereal quality but he was used to it. The polished gold and deep oak inlay spoke to the richness of the location. The bartender was a pleasant fellow who always had a good joke. Light spilled in through the bright windows, which was fine with him as he never felt tired. In fact, he felt better than he had in years, even when he was sharing bodies with Selmak._

 _He heard the stool pull out next to him and he looked up with a grin. "George. Good to see you made it."_

" _Hello Jake. How've you been?"_

" _Phenomenal. You'll love it here." Jacob motioned to the bartender. "Pour some of that… I don't know what it is, but it's amazing!" With a friendly, genuine smile he poured them two drinks._

" _To old friends," Jacob toasted, lifting his glass._

" _To old friends," George echoed. And they drank together._

THE END


End file.
